The First Silver Bell Ball
by Adverb Slut
Summary: Tom has never believed the Silver Bell Ball to be any fun, despite his parents telling him that the event was the height of Mewman diplomatic entertainment—that is, until King River finally decides his daughter is ready to attend the Ball and brings Princess Star Butterfly along. Tomstar. Oneshot.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This story was originally supposed to be for Tomstar Week, but I forgot to post it on here. I apologize for the ending being abrupt, but I ended it that way on purpose. Please enjoy, and if you did, please review and/or favorite!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own _Star Vs. the Forces of Evil_

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Tom had been told countless times that the Silver Bell Ball was the peak of excitement for Mewmans. Although said excitement was balanced on the flimsy gossamers of political correctness and intense politeness, the glittery formality of the dance and the delectable hors d'oeuvres were well worth any trampled nerves.

His father had always told him that the Silver Bell Ball required him to be on his best behavior—anything less and Tom would have to sit through the painfully boring diplomatic meetings that his father attended for a week as punishment. Tom _despised_ anything in the realm of politics with a burning passion that superseded anything he had ever felt, so he was always careful to keep his temper under check and not to step on too many toes while he danced.

This was the third year he had been allowed to attend. All crown Mewman princesses and princes were required to attend the event at the humble age of seven, already nimble enough on their feet to hokey-pokey with their fellow royals.

However, Tom, could feel that this year would be different.

"I heard someone new is coming," his fellow prince, Larry Kelpbottom whispered.

Tom raised an eyebrow. They were in a crowded ballroom, where the families who had already arrived were loudly circulating among each other and snacking on the prepared delicacies displayed on the lengthy buffet tables; there was no need to be so quiet. "Why are we whispering?"

Larry peered right and left, an anxious sweat breaking out on his forehead. His voice still hushed, he muttered, "Because _she_ might hear me." With a green hand, he pointed in the direction of a bowl of Cornritos and cornslaw, where a pale blue, slightly-ominous-looking, floating unicorn head hovered.

"You're afraid of Princess _Ponyhead_?" Tom asked, perhaps a bit too loudly, his mouth dropping low to the ground and his eyes widening.

Almost as if she had been listening in on their conversation, said princess materialized right next to them, causing Larry to jump and scream effeminately. As usual, Ponyhead's crown was slightly crooked and her eyes were wide open so that the yellow stars in her pupils were fully exposed. Tom wondered to himself if her effusive personality was attributed to her upbringing or to the fact that she had eaten all seventy-four, ridiculously sweet, pink-flavored cupcakes that his mother had magnanimously baked for the Ball.

Ponyhead flipped her mane, gave a disapproving _tchk_ , and announced, "Um, excuse me, I know that I am, like, the most wonderful person ever to talk about, but, like, don't do it while I'm not here, mh-hm, 'kay? That's called, like, 'being rude'."

Larry gave a deep, flustered bow. "We're so sorry, your highness."

"Ugh, like, dude," Ponyhead replied, raising an eyebrow, "stop being weird."

Tom decided to save Larry another embarrassing reply, and cut in, " _Right_ , anyway. So, Ponyhead, Larry here said that someone new's coming. Did ya hear anything?"

To his surprise, Ponyhead's mouth contorted into a pout, and she looked rather offended. "Of course, _I_ did. King River or whatever's daughter is coming today. Her name's Star and she's _my_ best friend." She narrowed her eyes and a plume of smoke exited her nostril as she huffed, " _Mine_."

"King River has a daughter?" Tom was baffled. "I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't," Princess Jaggs replied, walking over to the group with a peanut butter cornshake in her hand. She took a long sip, before replying, "He thinks that his daughter is some kind of 'delicate flower' and didn't let her come for the past three years. She's the same age as us, though, I heard."

As if on cue, a loud fanfare of trumpets reverberated through the room. Tom watched eagerly as Manfred sauntered from the corner with a gauzy smile. The royal servant cleared his throat and signaled two guards to pull open the large double-doors that served as the entrance.

"Announcing the arrival of Queen Moon Butterfly of Mewni, King River Butterfly of Mewni, and the lovely Princess Star Butterfly of Mewni." He stepped aside to the let the family pass.

Tom had seen the King and Queen of Mewni several times before. They were always dressed up in some hoity-toity attire that was covered in so much lace and pearls that it nearly made him feel underdressed in his pressed red suit. The queen's lips formed a tight line and he could see angry veins bulge out of her head, as if she had just dealt with some frustrating ordeal. King River, on the other hand, waved to his fellow royals and smiled heartily—a grin that matched the short-haired girl that was stood at his knee's perfectly.

Next to Tom, Ponyhead let out a gasp. "B-fly! Oh my _gosh_ , girl, what happened to your hair?" She zoomed over to her friend.

Before the princess could answer, her mother cut in, her voice terse, "Star decided that her royal crown would look better with some ... decorations. She, of course, applied them with glue, which dripped into her hair, and we had to cut some of it off." She let out an exasperated sigh that seemed to rattle her entire petite frame.

River gave a chuckle. "And that's why we were late, old friends!"

Tom's father grinned and called out from his position to the left of a grumpy-looking King Ponyhead, "Now you can't say the Lucitors are always the last one to the party, River."

With that, the elder Butterflys went over to converse with the rest of their fellow rulers, and Ponyhead led her friend toward Tom, Larry, and Jaggs.

Tom examined the princess—Star. She had rather pretty blue eyes and her grin was bright enough to light up the entire Underworld. True to her mother's words, her royal crown was studded haphazardly with cheap rhinestones and glitter, held fast with still wet, white, craft glue. He could see that it was still dripping into her jaggedly-cut hair.

"Okay, B-fly, here are some of the weirdos that I was talking to you about yesterday." Ponyhead used her horn to gesture toward Larry, saying, "That's Larry Kelpbottom—he's kinda lame, so don't talk to him."

Larry shrank under Ponyhead's criticism, but Star waved cheerfully and wailed, "Hi, Larry!"

Ponyhead then pointed toward Jaggs. "So, that's like, Princess Jaggs; she's pretty cool or whatever. Don't mention hippopotamuses to her, and you're fine."

"What'd you say about hippopotamuses?" Jaggs asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

As usual, Ponyhead ignored her and pointed to Tom. He tried to stand up straight and puff his chest out; he didn't want Star to think he was lame like Larry. "And that's Prince Tom. He's, sort of, like, a demon, so if anything smells like burned marshmallows, it's probably him."

Growling, Tom felt flames ignite on his body and spewed, " _I DO NOT SMELL LIKE BURNED MARSHMALLOWS_."

Before he could get any further in his rant, Star pointed to him with her eyes opened wide in interest. She giggled, saying, "I like your horns."

Immediately, Tom felt the anger dissipate from his body (hoping his father hadn't seen his little outburst), and his hands wandered to his head self-consciously. An uncalled-for blush spread across his face. "Uh," he gulped, "thanks." No one had ever said that to him before. Heck, he'd heard people in Mewni tell him that his horns made him look like some sort of _monster_.

"Come on, B-fly," Ponyhead insisted. "Lemme show you to the rest of the gang. Look, Princess Spiderbite's over there—and ooh! Isn't that your dumb cousin?"

Tom turned to Larry, who looked forlorn as she and Star scampered away. "Star seems _pretty_ cool." To be perfectly honest, he wouldn't mind spending some time with her; her company seemed to be significantly more entertaining than any of the other strange folk that attended the Ball. He looked around. "Hey, where'd Jaggs go?"

"Ponyhead mentioned 'hippopotamuses', remember? You know Jaggs can't stand the word," replied Larry.

"Oh, yeah." Tom never could understand Jaggs, sometimes. She was usually quite formidable and commanding with her gruff voice and impressive physique, but the oddest things set her off.

"Hey, Tom!" called Prince Rock Johansen from across the room. His voice came out slightly jeering. "Your pwetty wittle bowtie's all messed up!"

Tom rolled his eyes. Of course, the one time Rock looked up from his _Gameprince_ was to ridicule him. He looked down and indeed, the nomophobic Johansen had been correct.  
Not very proficient in his fine motor skills yet to correctly knot a bowtie, Tom fiddled with the black silken fabric for a few moments, every attempt destroyed as he accidentally lit the tie on fire. Grumbling to himself, Tom made his way over to his parents, specifically his mother, who happened to be warbling happily with Queen Moon by the starchy corn punchbowl.

"Hey, Mom," he greeted. Wrathmelior paused in her conversation and turned to him with an endearing grumble. "Tie this for me, please?"

His mom reached down and with the most delicate touch possible with her enormous fingers, began to knot his tie. As she did this, Queen Moon gave him a quick onceover and a brittle smile formed on her face. "You look very dashing today, Tom."

Tom grinned. His father had said the same thing and Tom wouldn't lie: he himself really enjoyed how how this suit looked on him. It was dark red with pale white trim and even had little black epaulettes with tiny bat wings—very professional. His mother let out a displeased groan and gave him a light poke on his back, signaling that he had forgotten to be polite. "Heh," he apologized sheepishly, "thanks, Queen Moon."

His mother quickly finished tying his bowtie and began to fix his hair, much to his dismay. " _Mom_ ," he whined, whipping his head away. It had taken him a _very_ long to perfect his hairstyle so that the three spikes were positioned just the way he wanted them. His father had said that they looked unseemly, but there was _no_ way that Tom was going to mimic his father's patented 'Flat Hair Extravaganza'.

"Perhaps it would be best go fill up on the hors d'oeuvres, Tom," Queen Moon advised him as she noticed him standing somewhat uselessly next to his mother. "The Ball is about to start soon and there won't be anything left."

Tom nodded, "Right." He scanned the remaining snacks on the table, deciding to go over and try the deviled corn. He was a bit wary as they were situated right next to corn punch and he didn't want to get the bright, flaxen drink on his suit—it wasn't a stain that was easy to get out.

He grabbed a small cob, slathered in mustard and mayonnaise, and blanched. Tom didn't know why of all things, the Silver Bell Ball gourmet chefs had decided to serve _deviled_ _corn_ ; it was such an unappealing appetizer, appearance-wise. Chewing thoughtfully, he decided that it was actually quite palatable but more salt was needed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tom noticed a recognizable figure dressed in bright blue with a glue-covered, gaudy crown bound over the table where which he was situated.

"Hey Star—" Tom greeted before he was interrupted as the Butterfly princess immediately dumped her head unceremoniously into the corn punchbowl. The sunny liquid splattered in all directions and much of it landed on his suit.

As Tom blinked rapidly for a few moments, River called, "Moonpie! Star's in the punchbowl, again!"

 _No_. No no no no no _no_. Star Butterfly did _not_ just drench his favorite suit in a notoriously finicky drink. He must have been dreaming. Quickly, he pinched his arm, but to no avail. The yellow stain was still harrowingly bright against the vermillion of his suit.

Again, flames enveloped the entirety of his body, and Tom felt his ire explode to the point where all he could see was red. His feet were lifted off the ground and a fireball formed in his right hand.

" _HOW_ DARE _YOU_?" Tom shrieked to the girl. Strange enough, her eyes were widened in interest and her mouth dropped low. " _DO YOU HAVE_ ANY _IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE_?"

Suddenly, he felt an arm drag him low to the ground. His eyes cleared and his flames died out; he was greeted with the face of his furious father.

Dave dragged his struggling son across the ballroom, muttering under his breath, "You are in _so_ much trouble, young man."

Tom shriveled a bit at the glare his father threw at him. There went the rest of his week—there was no doubt there would be seven days of political drudgery that he would have to sit through in his future. He tried to apologize as Dave dragged him toward the hallway and into a secluded room away from the main hall. "Dad, I'm _so_ sor—"

His father let go of his sleeve and wheeled around, rubbing his forehead as if he were in pain. "No excuses, Tom." A groan left his mouth as he pulled open his jacket and hauled a small bag that was hooked on the inside. He muttered, "Your mother warned me that you might need this," as he drew a pressed white suit and red undershirt from the bag. He handed it toward Tom. "Change into this."

Tom took the suit from his father and tried again. "I know I messed up, Dad, and I'm _really_ sorry." He gulped and began to take off his coat. "I'm supposed to be on my best behavior, and I guess I lost my temper."

Dave exhaled loudly and bent down toward Tom's level. He looked square into his son's eyes and asked, "Tom, do you know _why_ you have to be on your best behavior?"

"Uh, yeah. This is a fancy-shmancy event. Everyone's gotta be polite and nice." Well, maybe except Ponyhead. She seemed to be content to display whatever attitude she wanted.

His father nodded. "Yes, you're right, but …" His hands drifted toward Tom's horns. "It's also to protect _these_."

Tom's eyes followed his father's hands. He raised an eyebrow. "To protect my horns?"

"Not just your horns, Tom, but everything they _represent_. There isn't much of a difference between Monsters and Demons, and well, half-breeds are seen sometimes as an abomina— … well, they're not seen as good." His father stretched out to his full height. "Queen Moon and King River may be a bit more lenient when it comes to Demons, but that doesn't mean everyone else is. You've got to show everyone that you're not some sort of destructive Monster that everyone _really_ wants to believe you are."

With that, his father buttoned up his coat and nodded toward his son. "When you're done with that," he gestured toward the rest of the suit still in Tom's hands, "come back inside. I expect angelic behavior for the rest of the Ball, understood?"

"Y—yeah," Tom replied to his father's retreating figure. His hands ventured again to his horns.

" _Not just your horns, Tom, but everything they_ represent," the voice echoed in his head. Tom gulped. If Mewmans were wary to trust him, because he looked strange, well … he would just have to prove that he was trustworthy, just like his father had said.

Tom continued to undress himself, carefully changing out of his stained red suit in favor of the slightly less-fancy white one. The red shirt underneath was a bit scratchy, but it was bearable. He was absolutely _delighted_ when he saw that the outfit came equipped with a shiny red bowtie. He groaned as he looped the red fabric around his neck and attempted to tie the bow, but alas, it seemed impossible.

Without so much as a fanfare, the door to the room in which he was in was kicked open. Star, her face a mess of pouts and frowns, marched in, her eyes darting to everything in the room—besides him.

Tom gulped. This was one of his least favorite things about his tantrums. Afterwards, there was always a slew of apologies to be given to the unlucky recipients of his ire. He scratched his neck and opened his mouth, but before he could utter a single a word, Star held out a hand.

She took a deep breath and her frown curved even deeper. "My mom says I have to 'say sorry' to you, because I _accidentally_ got punch over your suit— _even though_ , it technically wasn't my fault, I mean, come on, I wouldn't have even dumped my head in the punchbowl if Princess Jaggs hadn't gotten her cornshake on my crown—" she quickly readjusted her garish headpiece "—so , yeah, anyway, I'm sorry."

Tom raised an eyebrow. This … was a rather different Star than he had met in the beginning of the Ball. Her frustrated furrowed brow and generally displeased demeanor were somewhat amusing. He decided her cheerful side that she had displayed earlier and this current state of assertiveness made a rather interesting person that he definitely wanted to know.

He realized he was staring and quickly cleared his throat. "Heh, … it's no big deal. I'm sorry, too, for you know … kinda blowing up at you."

With that, her beam returned. "Oh, it's no problem! Do you know how cool that was? I mean, it was probably the highlight of my week!" She lowered her eyes. "Stuff can get so boring on Mewni."

"Really? You should come to the Underworld, sometime. There's rarely a dull moment down there." Tom grinned. He didn't have many friends—which really sucked, because there were _so_ many interesting things in the Underworld to explore that weren't found anywhere on Mewni.

Star grabbed his wrist and her eyes widened in excitement. "Are you serious? That sounds like a lot of fun!"

A loud gong sounded, and the reverberation from the sound clacked Tom's teeth together. Star's grip on his wrist tightened as she began to drag him out of the secluded room. "That's the bell," she announced, "the Ball's about to start!"

"Wait!" Tom urged, digging his feet into the ground. He held up the limp fabric around his neck. "Uh … could you help me tie this?"

Quickly, Star tied his bowtie, and Tom couldn't help but admire the deftness of her fingers. "I tie my Dad's ties _all_ the time," she explained when she noticed his gaze. She knotted the tie with a flourish and motioned for him to follow her. "Now, come on!"

Most of the other princes and princesses were already seated by the time that they arrived.

"Oh, good, Star, you're here," River chuckled, "we were about to send out a search party."

Tom took his seat across from Star and grinned as Manfred bounced over where the two rows of chairs were placed.

"Will the dancers please stand for the commencement bow?" he declared, his voice loud so that it reached all the corners of the ballroom.

Both Tom and Star, along with their fellow dancers, rose, bowing low to each other.

From across the room, Queen Moon rang her ever-annoying golden bell. "Let the first dance begin."

Tom knew what he had to do. Before any of the other princes could react, he raised himself up off his chair and walked toward Star, who beamed at him in anticipation.

He grinned as he asked, "May I have this dance, Princess Star?"


End file.
